


Kurtbastian Week 2012

by MarauderCracker



Category: Glee
Genre: Kurtbastian Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderCracker/pseuds/MarauderCracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 1: Meeting the Family</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Strangeness and Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Meeting the Family

Marina runs through the balcony’s door and almost trips on her untied shoelaces. Sebastian catches her by her shoulder, helping her stand straight, and she smiles as brightly as the city that stretches under them. 

"Here you are! Uncle Kurt said you’d be ‘adding more nails to your coffin’. And Rach says that you should hurry up if you want your coffee to be still hot. Do you mind if I smoke too?" She speaks so fast that Sebastian finds it almost impossible to understand her. He frowns, worried, and gets back to lean against the banister, as he was doing before she appeared.

"When did you start smoking? And what were you looking me for?"

"Like two years ago, Mom knows it but Mommy doesn’t, so don’t tell her," Marina gets a cigarette out from her bra and pokes at Sebastian’s arm until he passes her the lighter. She’s bubblying with excitement and Sebastian gets curious.

"I’m sure Harmony knows it too, she’s just too good to actually say anything. Now, are you here just to avoid helping to pick up the dishes?"

"No, actually, I do have something to talk about. You know… Uhm…" Marina fixes her long dreadlocks in a nervous gesture, and looks down at the city. Sebastian just rolls his eyes fondly, guessing what this is about.

"A boy?"

"Shush!" She covers her mouth with her entire hand and looks at him with wide eyes, diverting her glance for a second towards the open door that leads into the apartment. "You don’t have to tell anyone, because my moms still don’t know about him! And Uncle Kurt and Rachel either, because they’re so romantic and they will scold me for being mean and keeping it a secret."

Sebastian laughs, and asks her what is so important about this guy. Marina is seventeen and very independent, and she has Santana’s strong personality. She doesn’t have either of her mothers’ amazing voices, but has their grace and ease to dance; and facility to get everyone’s attention. Particularly, boys’ attention. Which has been a problem ever since she entered her teenage years.

"Well, he’s a sweetheart and we’ve been dating like for ten months and he’s perfect and he’s going to the same college I am next year," (she stumbles a bit over her words and rolls the filter of her cigarette between her fingers, pressing it tight until it loses its form) "and we’ve even been planning on moving in together after freshman year and I love him a lot but…"

"But?" Sebastian takes one second to consider everything that can be considered. He’s already in his fifties and if Marina says that she’s pregnant he’ll have a heart attack. This is why he never wanted children, but the children of his friends more than make up for the ones Kurt and him didn’t have. 

"But he wants to meet Mom and Mommy and talks with them and ask them for permission before planning anything else and, and, what do I do?" Now Sebastian laughs so loud that Marina has to reach a hand and cover his mouth to avoid that anyone wonders what’s going on and interrumpts the conversation. He’s smirking when she finally lets him talk again.

"So, you didn’t want to talk about this with Kurt because he’s suck a romantic and he would be mad at you?" Marina nods, frowning at him in confusion. "So, he never told you that he hid our relationship from his friends from almost one year and his family only knew about it because of an accident, a week after or second anniversary?"

"What?" Marina exclaims, dropping her cigarette to the floor, and Sebastian laughs again. "Remember how Santana says that I was a jerk during high school?" he asks her, and Marina nods. "Well, she’s not lying. I screwed up and all of Kurt’s friends, includding your mother and Rachel and Kurt himself hated me. When Kurt and I started seeing each other we…"

"I’m almost eighteen, Uncle, you can tell me that you were fuck buddies," Marina huffs, annoyed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. He smiles at her.

"Well, yes. The thing is that we kind of fell in a relationship without really noticing, but it had started with Kurt never telling his friends that it was me he was seeing; and it stayed like that for a while. At the end, Rachel and Jesse bumped on us when we were having coffee together and, since your aunt can’t keep her mouth shut, in a week all of Kurt’s friends knew about it. Even the ones in California."

"That’s when everything blew up and Puck came to New York just to threaten you?" Marina asks, and Sebastian nods. "But how come Kurt’s family didn’t hear about it? Rachel would have told Finn."

"No, the giant was doing some training with the army I don’t remember where, so he didn’t hear about it just then and, by the time he came back, it was old news and nobody remembered to tell him about it. And I just kind of assumed that Kurt had told his family after a while, at least that he was in a relationship with somebody. I didn’t feel particularly compelled to meeting them anyways, since I was sure I would ruin everything." 

"But what happened? Mommy told me that you had a close encounter of the third type with Burt’s hunting gun when you met them," Marina wears his best innocent smile as she says so, and if Sebastian didn’t know better he would be sure that those are Harmony’s genetics.

"Well, the gun part isn’t true. Because I met them in New York and Burt doesn’t carry his hunting stuff everywhere. Lucky me. But… Well, it’s funny. Just the day after our two years anniversary my dad had a car accident and I flew back to Ohio. I had planned to stay there for a while, but at the end he hadn’t gotten so harmed and my sister told me that it was better that I came back so I wouldn’t lose more classes. By that time, Kurt and I were living together, and I didn’t bother announcing Kurt that I would be back early."

"Oh. My. God." Marina mutters, looking up at him with wide eyes. He’s smiling, and she half wants to laugh but the story is interesting and she’s curious. Very curious. "What happened, what happened?" 

"Well, basically, I entered the apartment, dropped the bag in the couch, took of my shirt and walked in the kitchen saying ‘babe, are you home?’ and found Burt and Carole helping Kurt with the dishes. You should have seen Kurt’s face."

"What’s up with my face?" Kurt asks, walking out to the balcony. Marina looks at him for a second, and then she starts laughing so hard that she doubles over and leans his forehead on the banister until she can control herself. Kurt frowns. "What is going on, you two?"

"Nothing, babe. I was just telling your niece about how much of an asshole you are." Kurt lets himself be pulled into a hug by his husband, resigned to the fact that he’ll never live down that story. 


	2. Baby, I'm gonna leave you drowning until you reach for my hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Vacations

Loneliness has a very particular taste when you add the salty edge of the beach (he writes). There was a poet who just walked into the sea, wanting to die (he remembers). But I don’t want to die (he has to remind himself every time, because that sureness fades when the cold wind of the ocean blows).

When he was little he loved the beach. Mom pretended to be a mermaid and they played in the water, singing as they did so. But one day mom lost her voice like Ariel did, and he lost everything. He can’t remember the songs that they used to sing, but he remembers other things. Like one afternoon, when she told him that she had really been a mermaid, and she had met Dad when he went to that exact same beach. And that, someday, a wonderful mermaid looking for his prince would arrive to that same shore and find Kurt waiting for her. (He told her that he would prefer to be converted into a merman, though, and go to the depths of the sea with the mermaid and be his best friend. He still thinks the same now.)

But Dad said that Mom lied, that she was always a girl. A wonderful girl with summer eyes and a dress full of flowers that stumbled upon him in the beach, but a normal girl and nothing more. And that mermaids look for princes, and princes only live in places like Europe (or China, like in Mulan; Kurt always has to add). America doesn’t have any princes, and he would do better going to the center of town and try to befriend other kids, instead of waiting for a mermaid that won’t come (Burt tells him and it hurts, even when he uses his sweetest and kindest tone.)

Still, he puts a book, his notebook and the sunscreen in his backpack, and walks on the burning sand with his feet bare. He finds his favorite spot, leaning against a big rock. Its shadow lasts during most of the day, fresh and safe and far enough from the only bit of beach that’s sometimes occupied by other people. (Sometimes he still dreams about mermaids and it only takes him a second to realize that, even if a mermaid were to land in America looking for his prince, she would arrive at some interesting beach, probably somewhere in California with pretty surfers and big celebrities enjoying the sun. Not in this town that no one’s ever heard of, with its sand too full of tiny cutting rocks and its nights so cold. There are summers when the only people in town are a few fishers, the four of five old couples that came here looking for a quiet live, and his dad and him. Mermaids are too beautiful for a place as ugly as this.)

The days pass so slowly here (he notices). If one brought too few books and has nothing to read after half a week, it’s impossible to find anything else to do. There’s no TV in the house and, during the night, the wind from the ocean blows cold and merciless. (If one writes between parentheses it sounds like a secret, like something told with closed lips and too wide eyes. Some nights I open the window of my room and just go down to the beach, even if it’s so cold it hurts. I go to the beach and just stand there, with the water around my ankles, and wait. I never know what I’m waiting for. Except sometimes, I do.) He always carries the notebook with him, careful not to let anyone see it, not to leave his secrets at reach of careless hands and cruel eyes.

(Sometimes I miss Ohio. I miss my friends. And I miss Blaine, so much. But it’s stupid. Two days back into school and this will disappear, and I will think I was just being silly and nostalgic. Even with my friends near, all the rest is awful. All the rest and now Blaine has moved on and missing him still is just being idiotic.) He rips those pages, those and the ones with pretty read hearts that encircle his and his (ex) boyfriend’s names. He rips them and throws them at the sea, and it makes him feel better.

“What are you doing?” He almost trips face first into the water from how fast he turns around. The two pages he still had in his hands, waiting to be ripped in little pieces and dropped in the water, slip from his fingers and are dragged away by a little weave. Kurt looks at the person that interrupted him, jaw slack and eyes wide. (If he still believed in fairytales he would think something dumb, he would think that this boy that stares at him looks like a Charming Prince in the moonlight. But all the magic and the naïve charm disappear when he takes a cigarette to his lips, repeating his question between rivets of smoke.) “Are you deaf? What are you doing?”

For a second, he feels like the mermaid, so little and lost; can’t find his voice. He trips on his words, catches on the insult, frowns. “I… I… Why do you care? It’s none of your business.” (I guess that, after years of being pushed against walls, you just learn to always be prepared to cover your face at any contact; you wait an insult in every word. Which is dumb and hurts most of the time, but you can’t help it. Because, if you let your guards down, it will hurt even worse. That’s what Kurt had written in one of the pages that the water is now stealing away.)

“I don’t really care. I was just curious. Aren’t you cold?” (He talks in a tone so empty it could rival the cold of the wind.) Yes, Kurt is cold. Barefoot, wearing only short shorts and a big hoodie stolen from his step brother. After midnight, the beach is always too cold and, if the sand weren’t so wet, the little grains would be cutting against his legs as the wind moved them around.

"Not really. What are you doing?" The boy just shrugs and takes a drag from his cigarette, and Kurt rolls his eyes. He buries his hands in the pockets of the huge jock jacket, and turns around as he huffs out a "good night, then."

"Wait," sounds the voice again (still as monotone but a little louder than before.) He takes another step away from him before turning again. "I’m bored and this town is shit. Let’s talk about something."

Company has a very particular taste when someone kicks the weaves and a few drops of salty water end up in your lips (he thinks). There is always that scene in romantic movies, when the protagonist couple are playing by the shore and they end up tripping into the water together (he remembers). But I didn’t want that. I just wanted a friend (he writes). And he was called Sebastian and the last week here was weird, but perfect (he will be reminding himself forever, because these are the kind of experiences that will make one smile even after they have faded in the years and the distance).

He never gets to know where exactly Sebastian is staying or if he goes to that town every summer. Sebastian talks of Paris and that time he actually met a Prince, and they laugh; and Kurt explains that he’s staying with his dad while his step mom and his step brother are visiting the rest of their family; and they walk around the beach and pick up seashells with pretty colors. If the last night, for the first time in all the summers he’s spent here since his mother passed away, Kurt is sad of leaving; he doesn’t say. If they kiss under the shadow of the rock, he doesn’t tell. 

One day, when they bump into each other in a coffee in Ohio, maybe, Kurt will learn to believe in fairy tales and happy endings again.


	3. Wanky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Kinks and kittens (I went with kittens)

It’s not that Santana doesn’t _know_ the definition of privacy. It’s just that _she doesn’t give a fuck_. Also, that her friends are stupid enough to trust her with a spare key in case anything bad happens, and what did they expect?

Santana humms to the tune of Michael’s “ _Bad_ " as she opens drawers, takes mental note of the hand cuffs abandoned under the bed, drinks one of the beers in the fridge.

She just likes sneaking in, finding stuff. If the person whose private posetions Santana is messing with isn’t her friend, then she doesn’t care about their privacy. If they are, she knows that her real friends tell her mostly everything, and she wouldn’t use that information anyways. Well. Until now.

She is playing with the filming camera that she just found in one of Kurt’s nightstand’s drawers, when a thumbnail gets her attention. She presses play in the video, and it takes her fifteen seconds to decide what to do and take the memory card out of the camera.

She finishes another of Sebastian’s beers while she writes a note, that her friends will find when they come back from the movies. She lefts it attached to two bags and a box, and marks the paper sheet with a lipstick kiss before leaving.

“ _Hey, assholes. Broke up with Mandy ‘n am back to living with Rach. Since we can’t keep Minerva in our apartment, she’s now yours. If you ever forget to feed her or do anything bad to her, ir try to gift her of give her back, I will post your pretty sex tape on facebook. Btw, wanky! XOXO._ ”

Of course that, when they come back to a fluffy ball of hair purring in their coutch after having scratched all of the curtains, Kurt and Sebastian want to kill Santana. Sebastian actually threatens with throwing Minerva out of the balcony, and only finding the note stops him. The note, a bag of cat sand, a bag of cat food and even the sandbox. (Sebastian starts looking for Santana’s number in his phone, but it’s too late. Minerva is now on Kurt’s arms, purring, and Kurt is saying “ _come on, you know Tana won’t give in, we could just… keep her._ ”) 


	4. With the way you've been talking, every word gets you a set closer to hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Fighting (cw: self harm)

It’s about control. About being in control, pretending to be. About convincing himself he is in control. It’s about the cramps in his forearms and the burnt in the muscles of his shoulders as he holds tight to that last string of sanity. But then he can’t hold anymore and the rope bites his skin as it escapes from his grip. It wounds, it scars.

The scars are the constant reminder of the times he’s lost control. He lost balance, he tripped and stumbled and fell and ended up with scrapped hands and bleeding knees. The scars are a punishment. Next time he will be more careful, he will try harder, he will think twice before walking and talking and, maybe, next time he won’t fall. Next time he won’t fail.

He’s strong. He spent one entire year fighting the tugging of the rope, holding so strong his hands have callouses that will never go away. And sometimes the weight was too much and it slipped just a few inches; or he tripped and let it drag him a couple steps forward before digging his heels on the dirt again. He’s strong, yes, but now he’s tired. Something new, someone that comes to punch the air out of his lungs and make his knees go weak and then, he trips. He falls.

“ _Sebastian. Sebastian! Stop._ " Kurt is what makes him lose his balance, loosen his grip, stumble and fall. Dead weight, the rope slips away and he tries to reach it before it’s too far, but he can’t.

It wasn’t like this at first, of course. Not when he was in control, when he was breathing steady and the ache in his muscles was almost satisfying. But then Kurt had to stand at the other end of the rope and tug, and drag, and pull Sebastian so close to himself that Sebastian could no longer stand upright. Around Kurt, Sebastian isn’t strong or in control. Around Kurt, Sebastian fails, Sebastian falls.

“ _Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t trust you if you won’t trust me, Sebastian. I just can’t._ " Even on his knees, even when the palms of his hands split open because of the fall; he can’t justify the rest of the scars. Long and clean and straight as they draw stairs in the inside of his upper arms and in the front of his thigs. Calculated, carefuly counted. Because he’s in control even when he’s not, even he loses is grip.

Except he’s not now. Not with Kurt. Kurt has different ways of being strong, Kurt has different ways of holding his stance. Kurt fights. Kurt never gives up. Kurt doesn’t even need to try to make Sebastian fall, and then Sebastian is talking and walking and feeling before thinking; and whispering I love you’s and forgetting to turn off the lights before taking off his shirt. 

“ _I… I need to understand. I don’t get it. Just… Just, why?_ " He has an explanation, he has everything perfectly reasoned. He’s in control. But then he isn’t, and the words refuse to come out, and he can’t just say " _I need to know that I’m in control of my own pain_ ”. He can’t, he doesn’t know why. When he should think he feels, he feels before talking and chokes on it. The door closes, and Sebastian is alone. Sebastian loses his hold.

It’s about loneliness. Being alone is easier if it’s his decision, if he’s the one that closed the door and left the rest outside. Being alone when someone is throwing stones at his window, when he knows he could choose not to be, is easy. But now Kurt closed the door and Sebastian is trapped inside, trapped with that big blue stare of deception. Because Kurt is stronger and he doesn’t understand, he doesn’t need to understand. Except one day he does. There’s a knock on the door.

“ _There are new ones. I don’t need to see them. They have texture, they feel rugous and you hitch when I touch them._ " Sebastian loosens, closes his eyes, doesn’t fist his hands around an imaginary rope. And he lets Kurt do, he lets him talk, he lets him ask questions and doesn’t hold in the tears as he answers. Because he can’t be in control of anything, not even of how much he hurts, anymore. He feels before walking and talking and thinking; and Kurt is the one that has all the control. 

He gives in, because Kurt doesn’t give up. He falls on his knees but this time the tug is soft and careful and he doesn’t fall on the rough ground, and his knees don’t get scratched. And Kurt whispers that he doesn’t need to try to stand up again just now. That it’s ok.

“ _I know it’s not ok, I know I shouldn’t use guilt. But that’s all I have. All I can give you. The certainity that, even if you feel like you don’t have control over the entire world or over how much you hurt or how much you feel; you do have control over how much I hurt and how much I feel. And, even if I had the chance to take it back, I wouldn’t._ " 


End file.
